Little Prayers
by Zophiel
Summary: About 200 yrs post-TG, two brothers struggle to find their place in the world. From the mean streets of Tanchico, to the Court of the Wolf Lord, the Black Tower, and beyond. No pairings, as such, other than canon.
1. Lessons of Tanchico

(Yes, the _Naruto_ fic is still being worked on, have no fear. But plot bunnies have odd demands, and are harder to understand than a hormonal woman. And I'm a woman. So, I had to cave. This, for those unfamiliar, is from Robert Jordan's _The Wheel of Time_ series. It defines "epic.")

This is not the original plot bunny. This is actually the Son of the Plot Bunny. Papa Bun will be mentioned in the story as a contextual thing at some point, I imagine. So it goes, ne? Anyway, I suppose it's my own version of a post-TG Randland. Everyone has their own thoughts and ideas. This takes place about 200 years post TG, give or take. So, some familiar faces, most new. A changed world, with some consistencies.

Being written in the first person (not my usual pov), there's a lot of exposition in this chapter. It was supposed to be a prologue, but ended up. . .long. Maybe the longest chapter we'll get. I dunno. But, I wanted the background, plus getting to a certain point.

So, enjoy, comment. Flames will hurt, at first, until I give them thought, at which point I'll laugh for a long time. ^_^

I don't own _Wheel of Time_, and never will. probably a good thing, b/c if I did, Rand wouldn't have three wives, he'd have two husbands and maybe a wife or two. Aren't we all relieved, now? Oh, and making no money off this. Too bad. . .

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**_Little Prayers_**

Chapter One: Lessons of Tanchico

Warnings: Mention of Rape, killing. Oh, and did you know I have a habit of having spiritual/ religious undertones in my writing? Yeah, so, watch out for those. . .

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My earliest memories is one of the few I have of my father. It was the last time we saw him-- nighttime, somewhere that wasn't home, his eyes wide with fear and love. Fear for whatever was happening, love for my little brother and me. Tally was only seven years old at the time, myself only eleven, and we had no idea what was happening. Even now, I'm not sure I completely understand.

In that memory, he shoves a bundle of cloth at me and a small leather pouch. He tells me to go to Manetheren, to a place called Emonds Field, and ask for the Lord of Wolves. He tells us that he has given us a great treasure, but we should only show it to the Lord of Wolves or, if not him, the Tamrlyn at the Black Tower. No one else is to know. We are to tell no one our names until we reach the safety of the Lord of Wolves. He says one final thing, then, a verse learned when we first could speak, words etched in my memory even if I didn't understand:

_Golden eyes shine_

_Where Grandfather grew_

_That's how you know_

_The Wolf Lord is True_

_Shadow Jak's soldiers_

_With red hands on white_

_these good men bring _

_good luck to your fight_

_Princes and peasants,_

_soldiers and toys,_

_The Dragon protects_

_all wandering boys_

I didn't understand, then. Didn't understand that the words were as much a treasure as the cloth and the pouch. He told us he loved us as he bundled us in the carriage. He told us to find the Tamrlyn, or the Lord of Wolves, and they would help us. As the carriage sped away, I saw the manor we'd been staying at engulfed in flames, a great to'raken sweeping overhead as damane brought lighting down. I clutched Tally's hand as we sped away, knowing even then that we'd never see our parents again.

Of course the carriage was noticed, and the raken-borne damane brought a rain of fire, which spooked the horses. It was night, and in the darkness and panic, neither the horses nor the driver saw the cliff. One minute we were bumping roughly over the road, the next we were falling. I don't remember much-- I squeezed Tally's hand, held tight to the bundle Father had given me, there was a flash of light and then . . . nothing.

When I awoke, it was light, and we were on the shores of a river, great cliffs above us. Some ways off, I could see the remains of what might have been the horses and carriage, but I didn't look to closely. Tally was right next to me, and he was alright, and that was what mattered. Even so young, I knew we shouldn't have survived that fall. But I couldn't spare time to think about it. I really wanted nothing more than to sit down and cry, but with Tally depending on me, that simply wasn't an option. Not then, at least. The people who had attacked my parents would be looking for us, so we had to be as far away from where we were as quickly as possible.

The manor we had been at stood above a town that was on the banks of the river, and it wasn't hard to make our way downstream to the docks. The attack of the night before had everything in chaos, so it was surprisingly easy to find a captain who wasn't suspicious of a couple of young lads needing passage anywhere that was _away_. We were but two of many such, many of the others also youngsters like ourselves.

I found coin in the small pouch Father had given, along with a ring. I paid the captain with the coin, and then had Tally hold on to the pouch with the ring and the bundle. I noticed as I handed it over that that it felt like something was within the cloth, but I figured it best just to leave it folded up until we got to Manetheren. Tally wasn't the sort to cause trouble, being of a quieter nature, and if given a task, would do everything possible to complete it. So his job was to guard our treasure, and my job was to guard him.

Unfortunately, the next day I fell ill. I'd never been so sick in my life, and it was Tally who had to take care of me. I don't remember anything from those days, only that Tally somehow convinced the Captain that I wasn't going to make the rest of his men- or the other passengers- sick.

I vaguely remember getting off the boat. It was the end of the river, and pretty much the end of our coin. I remember the salt smell in the air, the cries of gulls, and the look of the sea. The captain told us we were in Tanchico, and he hoped we had someone to go to. I told him we did, and walked away, Tally following behind.

We didn't know anyone in Tanchico, but Father had mentioned the Tamrlyn, so I thought that if we found the local Guardians' House, I could get the Asha'man there to take us to the Black Tower. I suppose I had no idea what we looked like. Two small boys, one clutching what might have been a blanket, the other looking disreputable at best, and we come knocking asking to be taken to the Tamrlyn. Looking back, it's no wonder they thought us runaways and sent us away.

The first lesson I learned in Tanchico is that no one important pays attention to street rats, which is what my brother and I had become in such a short time. So while the Asha'man thought we were runaways, or else trying to play a prank, at the same time, the Blood didn't even see us. And as I was pretty sure it was some of the Blood who had killed our family, I counted this a good thing.

Tally and I spent the night huddled together in an alley way. The next morning, we awoke to find ourselves surrounded by other street-rats. They had questions, of course, who we were, where we were from, but in the end, we joined up with them. I knew that Tally and I had to get to Manetheren, since the Black Tower seemed out of reach, but the fact was that neither of us knew what direction Manetheren was in, and even if we did, we had no way of getting there. In the meantime, we had nothing but the clothes on our back, and the treasure Father had given us. Even at eleven and seven, we both knew this might be our only chance for survival. So Sweet Saro and Fair Rett took us into the gang they led, and told us we'd have to earn our names which, as we weren't about to use our true names, was fair enough.

That night, as we settled down in the abandoned warehouse the others had made their home—called by us The Hole, Tally finally broke down and cried. I wanted to, so badly, but I felt I had to keep it together so protect him. So that night, and in so many nights that followed, I swallowed my tears as I held him close, balling up my sorrow and fear and showing it as far down inside me as I could reach. My brother was the only thing I had left, and it was up to me, the eldest, to keep him safe.

I expected to catch grief from the others, but we never did. I suspect they understood, because right away they started teaching me the more dangerous things, while Tally was kept behind for what few chores there were-- cleaning, some cooking, sewing clothes from what rags they had, and scavenging the area around the warehouse. I was taught how to steal things-- purses and fruit, at first. Tricky Mickey had the job of teaching me the way of the streets. A part of me was afraid of stealing, but I really didn't see much of a choice. None of us had much coin, and I needed to make sure my brother had something to eat.

Once I proved adept at nicking purses and pretty much anything else laying about, some of the older boys – Rett and "Badger" Ed-- taught me to pick locks, and a whole new world opened before me. First it was other warehouses for food, or fabric for blankets and clothes. We had to be careful, of course, to not get caught, but I found I was skilled with my hands, and it was rare that I met I lock I couldn't open at will.

That summer, a plague swept through the city, and about half our group died from it. It pains me that I cannot remember many of their names-- I only recall that Ed and Mickey were two-- but all their faces are still etched in memory. Tally exhausted himself everyday, caring for those among us who were sick, but there was little anyone could do. I heard on the street that even the Aes Sedai and Asha'man were having trouble treating the disease, and if they were having trouble, then there was little a child like Tally could do. So he sat by them, and mopped their brow, changed their bedding when he could, and stayed with them until their breath stilled, their moans finally silenced.

I gained a new level of respect for him during that time. I myself could hardly bear to be in the room with those who were infected, their pain-filled cries cutting me to the bone. But he stayed when I fled, and he never lost his calm, not until it was all over and he once again collapsed weeping in my arms.

I didn't cry, I just got better at what I did. The two leaders of our group-- Rett and Saro-- started taking me on their runs, where people paid them to steal things. It turned out I had an eye for jewels, always knowing the real thing from fake with just a glance. Soon I had my own runs, stealing jewels from rich merchants or nobles-- I was one of the few thieves in the city that had no problem with stealing from the Blood. Light, I'd even take a cut in my commission for the chance to steal back even a little of what they'd taken from Tally and me.

It wasn't long before my street name – N'er 'Sean – came to the attention of those who desired more intangible things than jewels or documents, or else deeds they hadn't the stomach to do themselves. Things started to get real dangerous, now, but I was getting better all the time. Saro had taught me how best to use my knife – he was one of the best in the city-- and with those new runs, I needed it more than ever. But it soon became clear that I too was one of the best, and it was all to easy to become cocky.

The second lesson of Tanchico is: Keep to the peninsula you know. Our little hole was on the Verana, above the Panarch's Palace. Out gang pretty much had the run of the Verana, and we all knew every crack and crevice therein. We often took jobs on the mainland, and the little ones often rode in the races. The mainland was, overall, a decent section of the city. Some of my runs had taken me to parts of the Maseta, but they were quick, in-and-out things. No one from our gang ever spoke of running on the Calpene-- it was too rough, even for us. But I was confident, and I took a job there, despite the pale-faced warnings of Rett and Saro.

I don't remember anymore what the job was, but I'd done it and, so very pleased with myself, I never noticed the sailors until they had me surrounded. A swift blow to the head stunned me enough that they took my belt knife and my belt as they dragged me into an empty alley and. . . well, I suppose you can imagine. I didn't know at the time what was happening, only that it hurt worse than anything I'd ever felt. They took turns, and at some point I just stopped being me. It was like I was shoved aside, only watching, as something else came forward to take my place. Eventually one flipped me over onto my back – he leered that he wanted to see me cry as he took me-- but he didn't realize that in so doing he'd freed my hands, the effects of the blow had worn off, and I certainly kept more than one knife on my person.

I can't say I even felt anger when my arm flew across his neck. I was a bit . . . distant . . .from myself at the time. I kicked him off and immediately leaped for the closest of the lot, my knife striking deep into his chest. They all shouted in surprise, and for some reason, that's what sparked the anger-- though I felt it distantly, like a bonfire an acre away. I took a third down before they managed to flee, and I snarled at their backs, too weak to give chase.

I found where they'd thrown my breeches and pulled them on, recovered both the knife they'd taken and the one still stuck in the second guy, and then left as fast as I could. It was difficult to walk, and I could feel blood and other slick things staining them, but it was night, and I was taking the ways no one took. No one who would care, anyway. I had to stop to empty my stomach a few times, but again, there was no one to care. Not even myself.

It was midnight by the time I got to the meeting place on the Maseta, near the King's Circle. I gave my employer the information he wanted and when he tried to get me to go back and get more, I told him there was no way in the Pit I'd do that. He got angry then, and it must have startled me, because the next thing I new, my blade was sticking out from the base of his throat. I didn't remember reaching for it, nor throwing it, but there it was. And there he was, a forth corpse for the night.

I ran then, unheeding of the pain. I'd never killed a person before that night, and no matter how hard a person becomes, suddenly becoming a killer will have an effect. I stumbled and fell after a few blocks, but I was far enough away that the Watch wouldn't find me.

I finally got back to our hole shortly before down, Tally and Saro and Rett all waiting. They noticed where the blood stains were, and paled. Between the pants, and my still damp shirt, I told quite a tale even without speaking. Tally's lips thinned, and he pulled out the rarely used tub and filled it with coal-warmed water, insisting I get in. I had no energy to fight, so I did as he said. Saro came in and gave my brother a small pot of salve for my injuries. I closed my eyes as Tally washed me-- I knew he was crying again, and if I fell apart, I feared I'd never be able to put myself back together again. Yet again, everything-- the pain, the anger, the fear-- was balled up onto a hard little stone and shoved deep inside, with the other me.

Somehow, I knew that he knew what had happened-- the rape and the killing-- but all he said was, "'Seanney, promise me you'll never go there again. At least, not alone. . ."

I promised him, as I'd already promised myself. Of course, I made him swear the same in return and he did. He was always a good person, and a good brother. I hardly deserved such a brother anymore, but he was also the only thing that gave my life meaning anymore, the hopes of Manetheren mixed in the collection of everything else I'd buried inside.

Rett brought in "new" rags for me to wear, the old ones too bloodstained to salvage. I slept all that day and the following night, and then continued with my life. I still had to protect Tally – now, more than ever-- and I couldn't do that if I lost myself in my growing numbness.

I didn't take anymore jobs west of the Maseta, and few even there. I was still one of the best, but more cautious than ever. But I was getting paid enough that I didn't have to take every job that came my way, and I started taking one day in seven to just wander around, to actually see the city without having to steal anything I happened to lay eyes on.

It was on one of those wanders that I came across a group of Whitecloaks in a courtyard in the Panarch's Palace. I sat in a shadow near the stables, and watched as the older men drilled some of the younger in their sword-work. I hadn't seen the forms worked in the years since I lost my family, but the names came back as I watched. _Threading the Needle_ into _Leaf on the Breeze_, _Dove Takes Flight_ into _Two Hares Leaping_.

I might have whispered the names out loud, because suddenly there was a man sitting next to me, unmindful of his pristine cloak getting covered in dust.

"Not the average street urchin who knows the names of the forms by sight. . . " he mentioned.

It wasn't an accusation, just a comment and, for some unknown reason, I didn't feel like lying at that moment.

"My father showed me when I was younger. He was pretty good with them, although he tended to prefer pole-arms."

He was silent a moment, pondering the tense of my verbs. "I'm sorry for your loss. May he rest gently in the hand of the Creator."

"I don't believe in the Creator," I blurted out. Not a very polite thing to say to a man whose life revolved around vows to said Creator, but there it was. I was surprised, then, when he chuckled.

"No," he said. "I imagine you don't. Understandable, I suppose. You must have lost more than just your father, by the state of your dress."

"Almost everyone," I answered.

He was silent again as we watched the drill. Eventually, "You could come to Mayene with us. You and whomever else you have. We would take care of you."

I must have startled like a goosed cat. That they were based in Mayene was a good sign-- they were the sort of Whitecloak who _didn't_ sneer at everyone else-- but they were still a large group of very strong men who had not earned my trust. No way was I trusting Tally's safety with them.

"No." I knew I was being short with him, but he wasn't my brother, and the only courtesy I owed him was not killing him for the suggestion. "I need to get back."

"Wait." he stood as I moved to leave. "I can see that you are trying to protect someone, and I will respect that. Would it bother you if I prayed for you and whoever that person is?"

I near snorted in disbelief. He was free to waste his breath in anyway he chose. "And what would you pray?" I asked, barely able to keep the scorn from my voice.

He didn't seem to mind, only smiling. "Well, it is said that the Lord Dragon, Light shine on him, protects young people alone in the world. Perhaps I will pray that the Creator send His Dragon to your aid."

"Well," I shrugged. "I can't see what harm it would be. Go ahead. . ."

"No," he replied. "It is never harmful to pray for the well-being of others."

I left then, and dismissed the incident from my mind. The next day I was back to work, and I started talking to the gang about getting someplace a little nicer to live. Saro, Rett and I were bringing in enough to pay for someplace nicer, and the little ones brought in enough that we were decently fed. Not well fed, but decently.

But all that was dashed to ruins when I returned early one evening. I'd finished a small job for jewels, had lifted a few for myself, and had decided to come home, for once not going to find another job for the night. Our hole was strangely silent. I was immediately on guard.

In I crept, and soon found Rett and Saro, dead on the floor, the little ones piled around them. But not Tally. A sound from the next room caught my attention, and I burst in, finding Tally surrounded by several roughs, about to do to Tally what had been done to me that night on the Calpene.

A red haze soaked my vision, and then my memory grows spotty again, as I was shoved aside my myself. The next thing I knew, Tally and I were out on the street, watching as flames devoured what had been our home for the past several years, Tally shouting my name into my face.

"Seanney, Seanney! Come on, come back! It's okay now!"

I blinked. "Tally, oh Light, are you alright? Those men, did they--"

"No, Seaney." He smiled then. "You saved me, and I saved the treasure." He looked back at the fire, and swallowed. "You saved me."

"And you torched our home to cover the evidence?" I was trying to figure out how fire came into the situation, and why the water brigades were having such trouble putting it out. Were they really calling in an Asha'man to help?

"Uh, well, no, Seaney, the fire was you. You stabbed a few of the men, but then sort of. . . blew up, I guess. . ."

"I blew up?"

"Yeah. A bit. Mostly them, though. Lotsa fire and mess. Luckily, they hadn't torn our treasure off me, so I didn't have to run for it. Once I realized you were kinda. . . asleep. . . I pulled you out here."

The Asha'man was staring at the fire with an odd look on his face, but beneath his eyes, the fire petered out. I eyed his back warily.

"We need to get out of here." I muttered. Tally agreed, and in no time were were blocks away, and I was exchanging my extra jewels for some coin. That night, we stayed in an inn for the first time in years. And as Tally slept, I whispered my first prayer into the night.

"Look," I said. "I don't even know if you're real, or if I'm just talking to myself. But, if you _are_ real, and if you _do_ hear me, and if you even _care_, then I need your help. I can't protect Tally all on my own. It doesn't need to be the Dragon, though that would be great. But I'm sure he's busy a lot, so maybe one of his helpers, or someone he knows. Tally deserves something better, some life better than this, and I don't think I can do that for him. So please, if you could, I need your help for him."

That done, I curled up behind him, and slept.

The third lesson of Tanchico is: It doesn't matter how much gold or jewels you steal, if there's no food, there's no food. Four summers after we arrived in the city a blight swept through the farmland to the east, causing severe shortages in crops. It wasn't so bad at first, but as harvest came and went, it became more and more noticeable. There hadn't been enough to build up stores for the winter, and shortly after Firstday, the first of the food riots erupted on the Maseta, in the King's Circle. In the end, this only made food harder to come by, and no amount of jewel-thieving or well-paid murders could change that.

The other problem was, I was taller than I had been the last time I'd had to steal food, and so more noticeable. Merchants kept a sharper eye on their stalls, as well, until pinching a turnip was almost more trouble than it was worth. We rationed our food carefully, but in the end, it didn't matter. The days became more frequent that we had nothing to eat. Tally never complained, always stating his confidence that I was doing my best, but that only made me feel worse. I could see him getting weaker before my eyes, no matter how cheerful he tried to be. I could protect him from the evil of men, but it seemed I couldn't protect him from the cruel face of nature.

One day, after two days of failure, I was finally reaching the end of my desperation. I stood near the end of an alley way as I watched a baker across the street put a sparse number of steaming rolls to cool on a sill, well guarded by glass and wrought-iron lacing. They might as well have been on the moon for all my ability to get to them. But even across the street, I could smell them, their warm-yeast scent drifting easily on the chilly breeze, and I had to swallow several times to keep from drooling. My breath steamed in the air, the bone-piercing cold made worse by the hunger.

I really wanted those rolls, so very much. I couldn't bear to return empty-handed to Tally once again, and those rolls really would be quite a treat. So soft, so warm! I stared at them so long I thought my belly would chew right through my spine and then suddenly, with no warning, two rolls disappeared from the sill, and reappeared in my hands!

I was so startled I fell over into the alley behind me, the two rolls before my disbelieving face. I quickly scrambled up, tucking them into my tunic as I ran away. I was so distracted by my joy – two warm rolls to bring back!-- that I never noticed the braided man in black, following me on perfectly silent feet.

Tally and I were in a new hole, a small abandoned shop just big enough for the two of us, and I scrambled in with a grin.

"Tally! Look what I got!"

He raised his eyes with a grin which got wider as he caught the roll I tossed him. I watched as his mouth opened to take a bite, but he suddenly froze, eyes focused behind me.

I became aware of warmth in the air behind me, a shadow reflected in Tally's eyes, and drew my knife a I spun, intent on a damaging blow at least. But it never landed, my entire right arm and hand freezing mid-strike as the air solidified.

Before my nose stood a tall man, dressed in solid black. I craned my head to look up, noting the large fiery diamond set into the silver sword, the red enameled dragon on the other side of his neck. _Asha'man_. Here, in our little hole. And he'd stopped my blade with a thought.

"I'm afraid I can't let you finish that attempt," he chuckled. "Although, I must admit, had I not been able to stop you, that would have been quite troublesome. Quite. Flinn would never let me hear the end of it, and the man talks enough as it is."

He stepped around me, the silver bells in his twin braids sparkling in the afternoon sunlight that made its way into our hole. I had no idea why he had come in, but I did know that he had just stepped between my brother and me.

"You stay away from Tally!" I snarled, twisting around enough to nearly dislocate my arm. No matter how much I pulled and tugged, my arm remained caught in the air like a fly in amber. No matter-- I'd killed people before without touching them, and I knew – _I knew_-- I could do it again. I reached, and pulled, and _pushed_-- and felt everything sliced neatly to pieces.

"Hmmm, protective. . ." he mused, eying me like a wild animal. I suppose part of me _was_ a wild creature at the time. "Do not fear, boy. I have neither intent nor desire to cause harm to yourself or your . . ." he looked at Tally. "He looks to be your brother. I do not wish to harm either of you. I was simply wondering who it was who had channeled."

I growled, but Tally cocked his head, shrugged, and bit into his roll. "It makes sense, Sean," he mumbled around the bread. "And if he wanted to hurt us, I think he would have started by now." He _looked_ at me then. "And he's got no reason to try to lure us into a false sense of security, either. Being Asha'man and all. . ."

I took a deep breath. Tally had always been good at reading people, and prone to thought when I would rush in. I admitted that he had a point. But that man was still between myself and my brother, and the mere idea made me twitch.

"Let me go," I said, sullenly. "If you mean us no harm, let me go."

Slowly, _gently_, my arm was released. I still wanted to gut the man on general principle, but he'd shown that would be impossible.

"So, you were just curious, and followed me all the way back here. " I rubbed ruefully at my shoulder. "Well, you've seen me, you can leave now."

His eyes didn't waver, but the dark depths seemed to spark with warmth as smiled. "Just like that? I don't suppose you've ever given thought to training that ability of yours? Or was that the first time? If so, the sickness will catch up to you eventually. . ."

"Nah, he already did that--"

"Tally!"

Tally blinked, then scowled at me. "He _did_! After our-- well, _after_, there was a cliff, and everyone but us was smashed to pieces, but we were alright! But then, on the boat, Sean was really sick, almost all the way to here!"

"Impressive," the man nodded his head.

"And then, later, there we these men one day, who came by when Sean was out, and killed our whole gang except me, because they said I was the prettiest and--"

"_Tally!_" What was he thinking, telling a stranger all these things? But then, he frowned at me, again, and continued right on.

"-- and they were gonna hurt me, but then Tally came in, and he used his knives on the first few but he was _sooooo_ angry he blew them up! And our home, but we got a new one and he _protected_ me, which is why he's the _best_ big brother anywhere!"

I saw how the man's expression stilled when Tally mentioned me "blowing men up." It was a haunted look, one that told me he knew _exactly_ what Tally was talking about. His eyes were considering, now, as though weighing me on an invisible balance.

"You blew them up?"

I shrugged. "They were gonna hurt Tally." I made myself meet his eyes without flinching, and he seemed to come to a decision.

"You can protect him better with training. Come to the Black Tower, and no one will ever think to cause him harm again."

Tally nodded to me. For once he held his tongue, but I could hear him thinking that since we had intended to eventually go there anyway, this was our best chance. But still, this man had his own reasons, and I didn't trust him.

"What's in it for you?"

He laughed, then, the bells in his hair tinkling as his shoulders shook. "What's in it for me," he replied, "is that my lord won't have to skin me alive for abandoning an orphan in the streets."

There was more to it than that, but it's generally not wise to accuse an Asha'man of holding out on you. The hope he held before my eyes was the most tantalizing thing I'd seen in years, but trust is a hard thing for me to give. The family motto flashed through my head, and just barely tipped the scales.

"Fine. But we stop by the Court of the Lord of Wolves in Manetheren first."

Tally grinned, seeing my idea right away. Maybe I could trust this man, maybe I couldn't, but the Wolf Lord would know. And I was sure he'd help me. Father had been insistent on that point.

The Asha'man's face grew considering again, as though seeing me for the first time. "Manetheren? The Wolf Lord. . ." he looked into Tally's hopeful face. "Well, it's not entirely up to me, but I don't see my companion having much of an objection. I think we can do that. Is it a deal, then?"

"Hn." I grunted, then spat in my palm. He echoed the gesture, and we shook on it. "By the way, Sean, Tally, my name is Jahar Narishma. Most people call me Asha'man Jahar, but you needn't be so formal. Just Jahar will do."

It was only a few minutes before we were ready to leave. Tally was already set, our Treasure strapped to his back beneath his shirt as always, and I only needed to pick up the rest of my knives –some of them had once been Saro's, my backup lock picks, and a small pouch of jewels. Useless in a famine when a turnip cast silver and bread often cost gold, but useful in more normal circumstances. The knives were tucked away various places, the jewels down my tunic, and the lock picks up my sleeves. And at last, the roll which I hastily crammed in my mouth as I moved to leave.

I thought I'd be sad to leave our little hole, but as Tally took my hand, I found myself slightly hopeful, for the first time in years. At long last, there was a small chance that we might make it to Manetheren. And the shine in Tally's eyes made it quite easy to go. Perhaps, _perhaps_, we might finally find our way to safety.

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	2. Sunrise

I am rather vexed with formatting recently. I hate using the lines to separate scenes, preferring to use a double return between paragraphs. Sadly, this option seems to be unavailable currently.

I have been advised by a reader that my previous chapter tended toward run-on sentences. This is troubling, as I am usually the one correcting others on that matter. I believe this is a result of writing in the first person pov, when my norm is third person. My apologies for this, and I am endeavoring to bring this under better control.

I would also note that, in this chapter, we encounter the final of the main characters. I came to an early conclusion that there was no way for me to present his character that would not vex a portion of the readership. I can only say the following: He is as he is, for reason. Remember that I am postulating two centuries after Tarmon Gai'don, a period of time that allows for significant growth and development. I beg, therefore, your patience, understanding, and trust. Good news is, less exposition, more dialogue this time ^_^.

Finally, a reminder that I do not own the _Wheel of Time_ series. I have too much of a background in slash/ yaoi writing for the idea to even be considered good by anyone, lest I toss out half the White Tower, and decide that Rand and Mat both need husbands instead of wives. That said, as noted in the summary, there will be no pairings as such outside of canon, aside from the occasional, incidental OC/OC.

This chapter has no warnings of its own**, **save for some Seanchan bashing (and Tuon bashing, I suppose). Please review, as I enjoy interactions with my readers. Thank you, and please enjoy!

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_**Little Prayers**_

**Chapter 2**: Sunrise

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We walked quickly to the inn, our breath puffing in the air before us. Tanchico wasn't normally quite this cold in the winter, but many of the older generations could recall a few that were colder. This year was only made so bad by the famine. We passed a few faces I knew, but none approached--- it was clear we were following Jahar, and if we were in trouble with the Asha'man, no one wanted a piece of it.

As we approached the Garden of the Golden Bell-- a familiar place, as I'd done a thing or two for the innkeeper-- I noticed it was unusually busy, laughing men pouring out of the door to the sound of hands beating on tabletops and a merry flute. Tanchico was, in previous years, always a place where men were willing to loose their troubles in merry-making. But not much had been seen of that in the past months. Mistress Haret must have been raking in coin-- a good thing, because she was a good woman, one of the few people I knew that I halfway trusted.

I saw Jahar's face soften in a small smile as we neared the door. "My companion must have gotten bored. He _does_ like to see people happy. . ."

He didn't stop in the common room, though he did exchange a look with the tall flute-player as he herded us up the stairs. I noticed that he was very careful not to touch Tally or myself as we went. Soon, we were in the Bell's best rooms, with windows lining two walls, two beds, and two ladder back chairs against the inner wall. Despite the cold, the windows were thrown open, allowing a small breeze, but no chill.

"My companion suffers from claustrophobia," Jahar informed us. "He's turned down much fancier places than this to sleep in a yard, simply because the windows didn't open in the rooms."

I had noticed that the flutist hadn't been dressed in the standard Asha'man black, nor had he been wearing either of the pins on his collar. "What is he, your servant?"

The door opened at that moment, the tall man entering with a flute in half-gloved hands, the door not quite closing shut behind him. Jahar gave a half-grin.

"No, certainly not my servant, though he does like to play the role when the fancy strikes him. More. . ." he paused in thought as the other raised an eyebrow. "More, he wanders about, and I. . . _I follow after_, and keep him from falling into _too_ much trouble."

The words bore a genuine affection, but his eyes also spoke of a deep, long-held respect. Tally's hand tightened in mine, and I knew he'd noticed. Knowing him, he'd probably noticed more. The tall fellow chuckled softly as he carefully tucked the silver-chased flute into a protective case from a saddle pack. I noticed then, that there was something _off_ about his left hand, although I couldn't tell you what it was. Just, something _off_.

"So tell me, old friend," he addressed Jahar, sitting on a bed where the breeze would caress his face. "I thought you were out to find a snack, and you come back with two little lambs. . ."

Both Jahar and I snorted at the same time, and Tally giggled. The Asha'man grinned. "Oh, no lambs these. The older is Sean. I caught him channeling to get some bread for himself and his younger brother here, Tally. They bargained me into agreeing to stop by the Court of the Wolf Lord in Manetheren on the way to the Tower. With your agreement, of course."

The tall man's eyes studied us with sudden intensity, and as his grey eyes met mine, my other self rose up, but didn't come forward. If the widening of the man's eyes was any indication, he saw it.

"Sean and Tally," he murmured, thoughtful. "I've heard those names on the street. N'er Sean and his brother, The Tally. I've heard a lot. . . probably not all to be believed, but likely some of it's true." His eyes glanced to Tally, and seemed to take in the way I kept him behind me. "The protectiveness seems to be true enough." And then he smiled, all the thoughtful discernment evaporating.

"I'm Carn," he said. "And I swear I intend no harm to either of you. Manetheren is a fine place to visit, and if we leave in the morning, we'll be there in time for Beltine."

"We're not going to--?" Jahar looked surprised.

Carn shook his head. "We open a gateway, and these two will bolt faster than a shadow at sunrise." He glanced at me. "Believe me on that-- there's not enough trust for us to heal a scraped knee in those eyes. Nope, I'm afraid we'll have to buy a couple more horses, prove ourselves on the way east." He grinned as he leaned back on the bed. "We can give them both a head start on the studies, too. We'll be in Manetheren for Beltine, and then to the Tower for spring."

Jahar pursed his lips. "Really. You're sure it has nothing to do with staying away from the Tower for longer. . ."

Carn looked affronted. "Of course not! But, we may find something going in the other direction, and I don't want to miss the slightest chance of a lead. And, what I said was true-- we could open a gate into the Grand Hall, with Lady Maighdin standing on the other side, and these two wouldn't believe."

Jahar relented with a shrug. "Beltine is nice in Manetheren."

And that was the plan. That night Tally and I shared one of the beds, Jahar and Carn the other. It was strange, feeling that breeze, but oddly comforting. I slept with knives drawn in each hand, Tally secure behind me, his breath on my neck a warm counterpoint to the softly stirring air in the room. It was an awkward, frightening thing, sharing a room with two strangers. Several times, I nearly got up, nearly woke Tally, nearly bolted. But each time, the faint, flickering hope that maybe, _maybe_, we would finally find home kept me where I was. My gut, always warning of danger, warned that this could be the only chance we ever had. It could be the only chance that Tally had of a better life. A gamble, to be sure, with all or nothing stakes. The only thing I was sure of was that I didn't want things to continue, didn't want Tally to have to eventually follow the path I'd taken.

_Sometimes,_ Da used to say, _when everything that matters is on the line, you have to bet big, and be willing to _loose_ everything to _gain_ everything._ Tally was worth that. Everything. Even the risk that these men were like the others, waiting for us to be vulnerable before striking. Even knowing that if they were, there was nothing I could do to stop them. _All or nothing. Remember the family motto._

Despite my lack of trust, I eventually fell asleep, and roused to the sound of movement shortly before dawn. Carn was awake, a moving a chair to sit before the east-facing windows.

Jahar mumbled sleepily, and then fell back asleep with an irritating mutter of "sentimental goat-kisser." I levered myself up as Carn sat. "What are you looking at?" I asked, softly so as not to wake Tally.

Carn smiled, then glanced down to where my blades shone in the pre-dawn gloom. "The Gift of Dawn," he said. "I'm sure you understand that."

I nodded. I rarely saw dawn, unless a job had taken unusually long, but I certainly understood being grateful to have survived for one more. I shifted on the bed to get a better view of the windows, sheathing my knives. They hadn't done anything strange during the night, and this desire of Carn's to see the sunrise was something more often found in kind hearts than in not-kind. Didn't mean I trusted him, so much. But after sleeping the night undisturbed, I figured he wasn't the type who would jump me or Tally just because he thought he could.

We didn't say much as the sky lightened with soft, warm colors. My gaze shifted between the window and Carn's face, hoping to catch him in a genuine moment. I caught one right before the sun appeared, as the man leaned forward in anticipation, eyes wide and lips trembling. The soft flame and rose colored sky seemed to reflect in his hair as his head tilted, as though listening to some far off sound. As the small, burning sliver peeked over the horizon, his lips creased in a smile fit to welcome an old friend, and he seemed to sigh in relief, although no exhalation indicated so. He continued to watch, never tearing his eyes from the sight, even as Jahar pushed himself up to sit on the bed facing him. No one spoke as Carn seemed to drink in the light, until the sun was free of the horizon, light flooding into the room.

"You know," Jahar murmured grumpily. "The Sun will rise even if you don't wake to remind it to get up. It's very punctual without your help."

Carn shrugged with a grin. "Our lives are saturated in miracles, and it would be a shame for me to miss the more obvious." He looked outside, and his smile was _exactly_ like that of one glancing at a dear old friend.

Jahar grunted before settling back down. Carn laughed softly. "Jahar hasn't ever really been a morning person. When needed, he's one of the most disciplined men in the world, but when not. . . he's likes his beauty sleep."

A mumble came from the bed that sounded suspiciously like, "I would if you'd shut up!"

Carn laughed softly again. "I'll go down and get us breakfast from the kitchens. Anything you need?"

I shook my head, and the man was out the door, leaving me alone with the still sleeping Tally and the trying-to-sleep Asha'man. They were certainly an odd couple-- an Asha'man who was grumpy in the morning, and his very cheerful companion who had an uncommon appreciation for living another day. Not only were they themselves a puzzle, but I still didn't understand their relationship with each other. If not master and servant, were they brothers? Best friends? Lovers?

My musing was interrupted as Carn stepped back in the door, one tray with fresh kaf in his hands, two more trays floating behind him filled with bowls of porridge, a small plate of dried fruit, two small bowls with jam, and several slices of bread. That was one question answered, only about a thousand left to go.

The trays behind settled themselves on the empty chairs, while Carn lay the kaf service down by the bed, pouring a cup of the rich, dark brew.

"Wakey, wakey, Bell-boy. . ." Carn teased as he waved the aroma toward Jahar's nose. A groan answered the playful words, and then a sigh. Soon Jahar was sitting up, hands wrapped carefully around the small porcelain cup, inhaling the aroma of the kaf like incense, and occasionally taking small sips.

"Oh, yes, _that's_ how the Creator intended for men to wake up," he sighed. "Not the best I've had, but not bad, all told."

I didn't know what he was talking about-- we'd never been able to afford kaf, but the porridge was good, and I shook Tally awake so his wouldn't get cold. We both eyed the dried fruit, and the little bowls of jam, but kept ourselves to our porridge. We didn't know who the fruit or jam was for, and best we not start stealing from our erstwhile patrons. Well, not _yet_, at least.

But apparently, we'd misunderstood something.

"I realize it's not fresh," Carn chided us, "but you two are malnourished enough as it is. I'll have to insist that you boys eat some fruit. If you two clear that plate, then you can have some bread and jam."

"That's for us?" Tally's surprise was plain, while my immediate reaction was suspicion. Fruit of any kind, fresh, dried or preserved, was near impossible to find, and he was insisting we eat all that he'd brought?

For some reason, Carn looked suddenly sad, before he smiled again at Tally's words.

"Well," Carn seemed to hesitate. "It does look awful good. All of it. I would have a piece if I could decide what I wanted. Hmmm . . ." He peered at the plate, and then addressed my brother. "What do you think I should have, Tally? A prune? An apricot? Perhaps a nice slice of pear. . ."

Tally plucked up a dried apricot and handed it to Carn. "Well, thank you, Tally. I love apricots!" He took a bite, chewed with relish, and swallowed, looking at me the whole time. As though to say, _See, not poison._

It had been a long time since we'd had any fruit, and my mouth was soon stuffed with three slices of dried pear, while Tally was delightedly nibbling on dried apple rings. Carn ate his little apricot slowly, peeling the rest of it in half, chewing on one half while holding the other up to the morning light.

"Like stained glass," he mumbled. "Such a lovely color . . . Jahar, don't you think--"

"Yes, Carn, it's lovely." Jahar's voice was drier than the fruit. "The Good Creator made it pretty to entice people to eat it, not stare at it all day. . ."

"Spoilsport. . . can't even see the little wonders all around us. . ." Carn wasn't actually pouting-- it seemed this sort of banter was well established between the two of them.

Jahar snorted. "Oh, I can see the little wonders. Like kaf, proof that the Creator does in fact exist, and does in fact care for his creations. A marvelous blessing, this little drink. However, I also realize that the very same Creator expects me to accomplish certain things in this life, none of which will get done if I sit around all day mooning over how pretty dried fruit can be when the sun shines through it!"

It was like that most of the morning, Jahar sniping at Carn and Carn smiling back. Even with the bickering, though, I got the strange sense that the Asha'man ultimately deferred to Carn. Not always-- just sometimes, a change in the tone of voice, a shift about Carn's eyes, and Jahar would quiet.

_Like the way it was Jahar who had to clear it by Carn that we go to Manetheren, not the other way around._ I realized. I'd learned early in Tanchico that there was always some sort of hierarchy, even between only two people. It might shift from moment to moment, depending on the situation, but there would always be one who tended to give way more than the other. It was the only way to avoid bloodshed, usually. From what I could tell, Carn was the big dog in that couple. And that made _no_ sense at all.

Tally thought it was all great fun, of course, giggling as Jahar would toss off a barbed comment, and Carn would deftly riposte with a gentle smile. Tally especially liked it when he got a mount of his own, a calm red gelding he quickly named "Pips."

For just one moment, both the men's faces showed shock. "Why that name?" Carn asked, as Jahar worked to make sure the saddle straps were tight.

Tally grinned. "That's what the great General, Matrim Cauthon named his horse. For luck, right? So I wanna have a lucky horse, too!"

"There will be _no_ racing." Jahar murmured as he stepped back. "And yes, General Cauthon did indeed have a horse with that name."

We rode out with the sun still less than halfway to its zenith. I was thankful we'd started at a walk-- neither Tally nor I had been in a saddle in four years, and the city streets were no place for remembering how to keep out seats. Somewhere, the two men had found cloaks for us which, while not new, were certainly in better shape than the rags we'd been using. There were also mittens for Tally, and gloves for me. They shook their heads over the ragged state of our shoes, but said they'd have to wait. They needn't have bothered, though, because the horses kept us plenty warm as it was. Riding out that morning in my less-tattered-than-previous cloak was the warmest I'd been in months.

Northeast we rode, along the road that paralleled the Andahar, one of them always riding slightly ahead, the other with us. Tally gazed at the countryside and the river as though he'd never seen them before. When I thought about it, I'd realized he hadn't left the city once we'd arrived, more than one third of his life inside those walls. I split my attention between watching Tally, the road, and our escorts. But the road was rather empty, the fields barren, and Tally seemed to be glued to the saddle.

Satisfied that there was no immediate threat, I turned my attention to our guides. Carn was on point, looking over the farms that lined the road with a frown. A few times he dismounted, peering at the bottoms of fence posts, his long legs keeping pace easily.

"What's he doing?" I asked, as he rubbed dirt through his fingers.

Jahar shrugged. "Probably looking for flowers. We're far enough south yet that there should be some snowdrops, even hound-tooth violets. . ."

I was unconvinced. "Flowers?"

He turned to me, bells catching the sunlight. "You don't believe me? Didn't you see him with that apricot this morning?" He shook his head incredulously, bells tinkling with the movement. "I've seen him stare at a single buttercup for hours on end, entranced. When asked why he stared at it for so long, his explanation was his surprise at how _very yellow_ it was."

I looked ahead, watching as he dismounted, and plucked something from the dirt, his nose scrunching with delight. "He seems a little . . . _off_ . . ."

The Asha'man's sudden bark of laughter caught me by surprise. "No, no. . . He's, err, he's fine. Definitely fine."

It was nearly impossible to hide my lack of faith in that statement.

"Really," he continued. "He _used_ to be insane. He's much better now. _Much_ better. _Believe_ me. . . "

"He used to be insane? How insane are we talking about?" Tally's eyes echoed with my incredulity where he rode beside me, listening in.

Jahar sighed, sobering. "Well, it's never good when a man starts quarreling with the voice in his head. Especially if he can channel. _Most _especially if the voice can, too." He looked at us. "But don't you worry, as I said, he's much better now."

"So, he was cured then?" Tally piped up.

We were answered with shrug and a nod. "That's a word for it, I suppose. . ."

Silence reigned between the three of us, the horses plotting hooves our only accompaniment. "What's that he's looking at?" Tally asked.

"Light only knows," Jahar replied with a sigh, but his eyes were bright with fondness.

A few minutes later, Carn was falling back again, turning to speak with Jahar.

"There's nothing sprouting in the fields, and no sign of winter crops. One lucky lady-beetle larva, but I should have seen many more." His silver eyes scanned the farms. "And there's no feel of any singing." I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but stayed my curiosity.

Jahar tilted his head. "But, with the trouble, why wouldn't they try?"

"I don't know." Carn's face was still,thoughtful. "It concerns me."

The Asha'man nodded slowly, then nudged his mount ahead for his turn on point. We continued on for a few minutes, questions slowly burning though my brain.

"Your self-restraint is admirable," Carn's voice sounded almost amused. "But it may be you will find answers, if you ask the questions I see burning behind your eyes."

Since he'd issued the invitation, I felt no hesitation. "Who are you?" I felt my eyes narrow slightly, and fought to school my expression. "You channel, but you're not dressed as an Asha'man even though you travel with one. You seem to be quite familiar with farms, but you don't carry yourself like any farmer I've ever seen. Jahar says you used to be looney, but you're better now. And you seem to be the big dog, even though you're easily distracted by shiny things. And that's a _whole other_ deck of cards-- are you two brothers? Lovers . . . ?"

Jahar didn't bother to hide his chuckles as Carn tackled the last question first. "We are brothers, though not by blood. And brothers is really only an approximation. But it's close. As for who I am . . ." he shrugged. "I am Carn. It's true that I can channel, but I'm not an Asha'man. I have an affiliation with the Black Tower, though it's hard to describe my exact relationship to the hierarchy there. I was a farmer, once, and a shepherd. I've also done a bit of soldiering, and quite a bit of traveling. I found I wasn't much good at diplomacy or politics. I really enjoyed my time as a cook--"

The chuckles ahead of us suddenly erupted into full-blown laughter. "Forgive me!" he exclaimed between breaths. "Oh, forgive me, but you reminded me of that morning the M'Hael first found you in the kitchens, patiently stirring that pot of jam. I thought he was going to have a brain-storm, finding you there, of all places!"

Carn smiled. "He really did like that jam, though, didn't he? As outraged as he was." He trailed off in thought for a moment. "The thing with cooking is, everyone needs to eat. But to make something as prosaic and everyday as eating into something _special_, something to make them _smile_. . . that's a very good thing. I think that's why I actually liked making the jam for the kitchens." His eyes lit up as he met our eyes. "It's like taking jar-fulls of summer and locking them away for winter. People open the jar, taste the jam, and all the winter cold and shadow melts away as you taste summer again, if only for a short time."

"So," I summed up. "You're saying you like jam."

"Don't you?"

There was no denying that, not after Tally and I had practically inhaled the jam and bread at the end of breakfast. "So, what is your current occupation?"

Carn cocked his head to the side. "I suppose, I'm a treasure hunter at the moment."

"Like the Hunters of the Horn?" Tally asked, eyes alight with the thought of such adventure.

"Like. . ." Carn grinned back at my brother, eyes lighting with mischief. "Only, the treasure I'm hunting is far more precious than some rusty ol' horn!"

"What is it?" Tally was still young enough to love good stories. Well, to be honest, so was I.

Carn lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I have to be careful. This treasure, it's very fragile. So fragile, that if I speak of it out right, or in the wrong way at the wrong time around the wrong people, it'll shatter and vanish into nothing. We've been hunting it for nearly four years, ever since the Tamrlyn lost it, but it's been a hard effort. Very few clues to follow, and it could be anywhere."

I had no idea what sort of treasure would up an vanish if you even spoke of it in the wrong way. Maybe one of those Ter'angreal things. "It belongs to the Tamrlyn?" was what I asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Carn replied. "It was in the care of the Tamrlyn's family. The Seanchan had agreed that they would not be harmed, but a Seanchan's word and a copper still won't afford a dipper full of water. . ." he shrugged. "The Seanchan attacked the his family, trying to steal the treasure, but in the confusion of the attack, it disappeared. We've been looking ever since. . ."

I very carefully avoided looking at Tally, and silently prayed he didn't reveal anything himself. While any number of things could have happened at that time, the fact remained that Tally was carrying a treasure on his back, beneath his clothes. A treasure that would have "disappeared" from the world four years ago.

It didn't mean he was looking for what we had, but there was that possibility. Too bad for him, though, because we were only to reveal the treasure to the Lord of Wolves, or to the Tamrlyn. Only golden eyes, or dragons in the skin would get us to reveal our secret. And as it was, we hadn't mentioned the treasure to anyone.

The air shifted before I could make a response, Jahar falling back to us. "Carn." The name held warning, and the taller man's face stilled. "Deathwatch ahead, some civilians, too. Think we should?"

I wasn't sure how Jahar could tell at such a distance-- the group was still a smudge far up the road. Then I noticed the air in front of his face was shimmering, almost twisted. He was channeling to see farther, somehow. The shimmer extended to before Carn's face, and his eyes narrowed, freezing into hard, silver stones. "Ogier." he snarled. "They should be singing to the fields. . ." he was silent a moment. "Yes, I think I need to speak with them. The entire premise of both the Treaty of Ebou Dar and the Treaty of the Two Rivers has clearly been violated. I wish to know their reasons."

As the other party came closer, I checked my knives, making sure they were all sharp and accessible. Jahar shook his head. "There should be no need for those," he said. "I'm just going to make sure all is well with the civvies, and Carn will speak with the Ogier. And if there is fighting, it will be Carn and I doing it, not the two of you."

I kept my knives ready, anyhow. The Deathwatch Guards were not to be messed with, and I would not let them near Tally. I didn't fool myself, though. I'd never taken a contract for an Ogier, but I had fought them on other jobs. They key, for them, was not to go right for the killing blow unless you knew for sure you were going to make it. The key was to understand how sensitive the nerves in their hands and arms were-- it's why they made such good masons and sculptors. If you focused on causing them pain, if you attacked their arms and hands, you could disable them pretty quickly. Then, if you had time, you could kill them.

I explained this to Tally as I made sure he had his knives ready. When I was done, I found Carn and Jahar staring at me, faces seemingly of stone. I felt the other inside of me watching warily through my eyes.

"There are very few men in this world who know what you have so easily spoken of," Carn said, his voice seeming to come from a distance. "I will thank you to avoid using that knowledge unless there is no other option." It seemed, in that moment, that Carn was an entirely different man. Gone was the smiling, laughing, gentle soul we'd been traveling with, replaced by something cold and ruthless. The other within whimpered, and I almost heard it whisper, _This here is the most dangerous man we have ever seen_.

I managed to nod, and that unyielding stare moved away. We were silent as we came upon the group, Tally and I sitting to the side as Jahar, pins flashing in the sun, rode up to the head of the group. There was some consternation on their side as they saw the silver and diamond sword, and the red and gold dragon. But the guards gave way as he moved to speak to the civilians, and seemed to answer as Carn began asking them questions. We couldn't hear much from where we waited, but Jahar only paused once, speaking intently to a boy who looked to be between Tally and myself in age. Carn seemed to be pressuring the Ogier. At first, they seemed to resist but, after Carn scratched an itch on his arm, they seemed to suddenly back up, their low buzzing voices speaking faster as they made placating gestures.

"What do you reckon that's all about?" I asked Tally-- he was always better at reading people than I was.

He shrugged. "I don't know. It sounded like Mister Carn was really upset about the farms, and something like the Ogier should have been singing to the fields, but they weren't . . ."

After a few minutes, Jahar rode back to us and Carn followed soon after, the other group moving on. The men stared at them with blank faces until they were out of sight.

"So," Jahar broke the silence as we nudged our horses forward again. "What did they say?"

Carn scowled. "They haven't sung to the fields," he snarled, "because they have not been ordered to do so." A few feet ahead of us, a pebble shot forward over the road, as though kicked by a frustrated foot. "I told them to remind the High Lady of Tanchico of the treaties that constrain the Alliance. I think they will relay the message. How was your end?"

Jahar shrugged. "One with the potential to learn. I made sure he understood that he had a choice in the matter, that if he was never in extreme danger, he'd never touch it unless taught. Based on his reactions, I expect to see him at the Tower once he's of age. I gave him one of Logain's trackers, though, just to keep things covered."

Carn nodded, then turned to us. "See?" His face was melting back to the former cheerfulness. "No need to attack Ogier. In fact, as long as you're with us, those knives will get little use."

We rode in silence for a few minutes, Carn moving forward for his turn on point. "What was that, though, back there?" I asked Jahar.

"Inspection." he said. "According to the Treaty of the Two Rivers, the Empire is not allowed to take men as damane. All men found who can channel are to come to the Black Tower. Therefore, when an Asha'man like myself is traveling though Seanchan territories, it is customary for him to be allowed to inspect anyone he comes across. We generally don't unless we have reason to suspect something, but it's good to remind them of the conditions of their peace. Since Carn had to chide the Ogier, it was a good chance for me to inspect some civilians. As I said, I found one with potential. It's not inborn, but he can learn."

I thought about that for a moment. "So, they almost expect that if they see an Asha'man, he's going to stop them and inspect them? Even though the Tower isn't part of the Empire?"

"Yes." Jahar shrugged. "After Tuon's Betrayal, the Dragon made very strict demands for the Treaty of the Two Rivers. The premise that Carn mentioned was betrayed was that the Empire would care for all people within her territories with the greatest concern. That the fields have not been sung to, that the damane have not been seen outside the cities, this is a violation of that premise. In addition, if we run across any man who is collared, or any man being prevented from traveling to the Tower for any reason, this too is a violation of that Treaty."

"What happens with all these violations?" Tally asked, as my mind attacked the consequences.

Jahar sighed. "If, after multiple warnings, the Empire does not seek to correct the problem, then the Treaty is considered void, including all the parts calling off war and violence. Four years ago, when the Seanchan attacked the Tamrlyn's family, the Lords and Ladies of the Alliance of Free Nations swore that when the Dragon called them, they would answer. He held back, at the time. However, now that the people are dying of starvation, he may consider the Treaty broken for true. If that happens . . ."

"War," I breathed, eyes wide.

"War," he nodded. "But he'll try to avoid that. He doesn't want war-- he _hates_ it-- but if it's the only way to get help to the people, it may happen. If the Dragon calls, all the Free Nations will rise up, as will both Towers. It will be a horrible thing, but he considers all people to be his responsibility, most especially those who have no one else to speak for them."

"I thought Aes Sedai don't fight." Tally always had good questions.

"They won't," Jahar answered. "But they will make gateways, and they can heal. The Asha'man have no such prohibitions, save for our distaste. But if there's damane involved, it'll be messy anyhow."

We were silent again as we pondered what we'd learned. "Is. . . is a famine really worth war?" I asked, still trying to get my mind around the idea.

"If the famine was preventable. . ." the Asha'man shrugged. "This could have been easily avoided. It can still be stopped from getting even worse. But, until the damane are brought to harrow the fields, until the Ogier sing to them, this famine _will_ get worse, and worse still. Until country and city all starved to death. I'd give it a few years, factoring in aid from the Alliance and a few farms at the edge still able to produce. So on the one hand, everyone dies a slow death of starvation or, in the summers, plague. On the other hand, you get a full-scale invasion for a season, some bloody battles, a lot of blood that really needn't have been shed. Bu**t**, after that, the fields are harrowed by Aes Sedai and damane, and Ogier sing, and the ground brings forth goodness again. Which is worse?"

I nodded, understanding to horrible decision the Tamrlyn might have to face soon. How terrible things must be, when war was the _less-bad_ option.

"You think . . . you think he will?" I finally asked.

The gentle smile finally returned to Jahar's face. "I know him well, and I know that he will do everything he can to keep it from getting to that point. He'll charm, he'll threaten, he'll cajole and deal and even, if he has to, he'll beg." he laughed. "Of course, by that point, the Saldeans will likely have taken Arad Doman in their impatience."

Ahead of us, Carn laughed again and, just like that, everything was fine again. The sun was shining again, the breeze was soft, and the horses were still warm.

We avoided the topic of war for the rest of the day.

* * *


End file.
